Russian roulette
by ThreeMagpies
Summary: New Vegas. Gould was on his way to see Jimmy after the fight when he spotted the girl aiming a crossbow at his prize prizefighter. That pissed him off. Jimmy and the crazy girl had to have history because he went postal on Gould's guys when they nabbed her, even after she'd tried to put a hole in him. Anyway, now he had Jimmy and the hellion, and they were both going to pay...
1. Chapter 1

**Russian Roulette. Part 1. The wheel is the battlefield.**

A Revolution fic (Blackout AU): Sebastian (Bass) Monroe/Charlotte (Charlie) Matheson, Charloe. Rating M…

New Vegas. Gould was on his way to see Jimmy after the fight when he spotted the girl aiming a crossbow at his prize prizefighter. That really pissed him off. It was obvious that Jimmy and the crazy blonde had some history because he went postal trying to stop Gould's guys nab her even after she'd tried to put a hole in him. Anyway, no one messed with Ely Gould, and now he had Jimmy and the hellion tied up and waiting to learn just who was in charge…

AN: A very late entry in the OA 60 moods of summer fic fest! I'll just wish everyone a happy Autumn lol! There are two parts and the next will be up very soon. Thanks so much for reading and I hope you enjoy.

 **Russian Roulette.**

The wheel is the battlefield. It is the court that decides the outcome, without possibility of appeal, (Roulette30).

Russian roulette. Noun: an activity that is potentially very dangerous (Internet search)

Gould was so pissed he couldn't keep still, so he paced up and down in the big trailer going through toothpicks by the boxful and ignoring the long suffering looks that Buck sent his way from where he sat cleaning his guns at the fold down kitchen table.

He backtracked and poured himself a shot from the bottle of whiskey on the table, tossing it back. The little blonde hellion currently tied up in a nearby tent had nearly put an arrow shaped hole through one of his biggest money earners and then to top it off a couple of fucking bounty hunters had turned up trying to bag Jimmy too for fuck's sake, although at least they seemed to want him alive. Why he didn't know, didn't care. Jimmy made him more in a night than any bounty he'd ever heard of. Although it was something to keep in mind if the punters started losing interest, maybe he'd send Buck to find out…

Anyway, as soon as the hunters saw Buck and the other guys they'd run off, but then Jimmy had got a good look at the girl and gone ballistic attacking Gould's guys trying to stop them from taking her even though she'd just tried to kill him. There was obviously some kind of history there, she was an ex maybe? Jimmy always seemed to have a few of them hanging round, hoping… But Jimmy needed to learn where he stood in the Gould scheme of things, when he woke up that is. Buck and Vernon had to knock him on the head pretty hard to get him to stop fighting and he was tied up next to the hellion just in case he started again. Gould couldn't have his fighters fighting the wrong people, it made a bad impression, gave his competitors the idea that he couldn't manage his people properly, made him look weak.

What the fuck was going on lately? If he hadn't gone over with Buck and a few of his bodyguards to have a little quiet chat to Jimmy about making his fights look just a little bit less like a fucking walk in the park he'd have been none the wiser and down one fighter worth a hell of a lot of diamonds.

And it was her fault.

To Gould's way of thinking, there were only two probable reasons why a beautiful woman would want to shoot a man, jealousy or revenge. And knowing Jimmy it could be either one. But she'd made a fucking big mistake trying to do it in his town, and now he was going to make her regret it.

He stopped pacing, a smile spreading slowly over his face and an idea blooming like a flower in his head. 'I'll make her play fucking Russian roulette with him watching. That'll teach him to mess with me, deal her and give us a live show like that'll bring the punters in like flies to a honey pot.'

Buck looked up, his hands still working, 'sounds good, boss.'

'What do you mean good? It's fucking brilliant.'

Buck shrugged, an eyebrow quirking as he checked the sights, 'ok, so it's fucking brilliant.'

Gould frowned, 'I know that face… what's wrong with Russian roulette? The state he's in Jimmy won't be able to fight tonight and I gotta have something for the main show. This way they'll pay for what they did and make me some diamonds at the same time.'

'You want to keep Jimmy fighting for you though, don't you, boss?' Buck spat on a bit of clean rag and rubbed at the barrel, 'you saw what happened when he spotted her? If she's that special to him then he might not like it if she gets wasted, he might not want to fight for you anymore...' He inspected his work.

'But she owes me a pile of diamonds for being such a pain in the ass and losing me Jimmy for the fight tonight…' Gould was pacing again, circling. 'I could have her dress up in something a little, you know… prettier? There'd be punters lining up at the door of the trailer for a bite of that cherry and if Jimmy wants a piece? Well he can pay like all the others.' Gould was grinning but his eyes were hard, 'he might be good, but he isn't the only fucking fighter in New Vegas and he needs to learn who's in fucking charge around here.'

Buck nodded 'true, but we got other options…' He aimed at the door of the trailer, pretending to fire. 'I mean it's all a show isn't it?'

Gould nodded, as a slow grin spread across his face, 'yeah, good thinking….' He poured himself another drink, tossed it back then slammed the glass down. 'Buck?'

Buck gently put the vintage .45 M1911 Colt that was the pride of his collection down on the table and looked up. 'Yes, boss?'

'Go get me Jerry the Spruiker?'

…..

Charlie opened her eyes and the glare from a beam of late afternoon sun coming in through a gap in a tent wall sent streaks of pain shooting all the way down to her toes. She shut them again, quick, and kept them closed while she did a quick inventory. She was tied to a chair, her ankles strapped to the chair legs, hands tied behind the back and what felt like dried blood on her scalp itching like crazy. That was nearly as bad as the headache, and the backache, her shoulders feeling wrenched out of their sockets and the fact that her butt was totally numb… Damn. At least she didn't need to pee, but she was stiff, her mouth felt like she'd been eating sand, her lips were sore and split and she was fighting down cold panic at not being able to move…

'Rise and shine.'

Her eyes flashed open again, then narrowed against the glare, meeting a pair of incredibly blue, bloodshot eyes set in a face that was bruised, bleeding, drawn tight with exhaustion and way, way too close for comfort.

Shit. It was him. Monroe. What the fuck?

But for some stupid reason she was feeling a weird kind of relief at finding him still alive. Those guys had laid into him pretty damn hard back there. He was the devil, the monster in her dreams and she'd wanted to kill him so fucking bad it ached. But she also had a vivid memory of the shocked recognition in those eyes when he saw her face and how they ignited to a furious, burning blue just before he attacked the guys who were trying to hold her still, while their boss watched from the sidelines... Then while two of them held her, the others had turned on him, four of them. But he'd just kept fighting until one of them hit him on the head with the butt of his rifle, dropping him like a stone, and just after that, the same guy hit her and things went black for her too…

Monroe had tried to stop them hurting her, tried to help her, getting himself beaten bloody and unconscious doing it. Why the hell would he have done that?

He was tied up too, the tall, muscular body slumped on another chair strapped against one of the big tent poles, hanging on the ropes with blood still trickling down the side of his face from a cut above his temple, his bottom lip split and bruises in dark patches all over him. He was still looking at her, his eyes steady, calm, waiting, almost sad?

She looked back at him for a long moment, trying not to give anything away, trying to work out what was going on here. Why the sadness? What was he thinking? She wasn't ready to talk to him yet, hadn't worked out what she wanted to say, or if she wanted to say anything at all...

Besides, she was too busy taking stock, testing the ropes holding her against the chair and her own pole. She winced when almost every part of her body complained at the movement and stretched as much as she could in the ropes, trying to ease the burning ache of sitting for so long, of having her arms pulled behind her. The bastard who took her down had had a heavy fist too, and the side of her head felt tender, tight, bruised. And then there were the blows the other guys had landed on her ribs, shoulders and legs where they'd wrestled her to a standstill before Monroe went postal on their asses. She'd gotten some of her own moves in though too, her knuckles were sore, fingers stiff...

She gasped as pain stabbed through a shoulder when she stretched it a bit too far…

Monroe frowned and looked away, almost as if he cared.

It made her wonder about him even more. Was he feeling guilty for everything he'd done to her family maybe? But he hadn't had to help her. No one knew him here, not as Sebastian Monroe anyway. He could have just let them have her and saved himself. In fact it was in his interests to have her dead, that way she couldn't tell them who he was. All they knew was that she'd been trying to kill him and they'd probably think it was just jealousy or revenge or something like that. She shrugged, they'd be right about one thing anyway.

But it didn't explain why he'd tried to help her, and landed up here. Although that didn't change anything really, did it? Maybe she could bargain her way out of this…

She spotted her pack, it was dumped in a careless pile against the far wall of the tent. She looked for her bow but it was missing of course, which fitted with the way her luck was going at the moment. If she didn't have bad luck yada yada... She turned as far as she could to check the door, because there had to be someone…

'Two of them, just outside the door.' His voice was a hoarse whisper, thin and dry.

He was right. She could see the shadow of one of them on the ground outside and the silhouette of the other through the fabric of the tent.

Monroe spat out a bloody ball of spit, then leaned forward as much as he could, keeping his voice low… 'Charlotte, you know that if you tell Gould about me, we're both likely to end up on a waterboard in a patriot interrogation room, don't you?' He sucked in a breath and let it out again. 'Because they'll want you to tell them how you know me, and then they'll want to know everything else.' His eyes flicked over her, unreadable. 'And you might not believe me, but I don't want that to happen.'

Charlie had been staring at the door, thinking, but she jerked when she heard him say that, and knew he saw it, because she'd just been thinking of possible ways out of this, and giving him up had definitely been one of them. She didn't feel that good about it but she didn't feel that bad either, because she was pretty sure he'd be able to escape anyway and the patriots would end up with squat. He'd escaped from everything else hadn't he?

She was also sure that he was right about the waterboard thing too, and there were a hell of a lot of things in her head, things about her mom, Miles… Things she definitely didn't want the Patriots to know.

He was trying to get her to look at him. 'And even if the Patriots don't want you, which is unlikely, and you're thinking that Gould's going to let you go because you told on me, you're dead wrong. He's a snake, a mean fucking son of a bitch, and he really doesn't like women. He'll be pissed that you lost him one of his biggest earners and he'll want to take it out of your hide.'

She felt his eyes leave a burning trail over her skin…

'And because you happen to be young and… reasonably attractive.'

She flashed a look at him, 'thank you, I don't think…'

A dirty blond eyebrow lifted just a little, 'because of that, and if you can't find some way to get away from here, he'll put you in a trailer, chain you to the bed and set his own guys on you first, just to break you in. Then he'll put you on the market and before you know it you'll be hooked on heroin or some other shit, and taking on all comers for scraps of silver and a snort of powder off the floor.' His mouth was tight and eyes hard now, 'and if you fight them, which of course you will, they'll just drug you up, and then if you're still fighting after that they'll make you wish they'd killed you instead.'

She did look at him then, long and hard, 'I'd kill myself before I'd let them do that, Monroe, and take as many of them as I could with me.'

He matched her stare, 'couldn't blame you for that, but killing yourself is harder than you think, I know about that, believe me.' It sounded like the truth, from his perspective anyway, but then he seemed to be able to turn that on at will. This was Sebastian Monroe after all. The guy who'd managed to have a whole Republic named after him.

The thought of what he said could happen to her did give her the screaming chills though, but the feel of his eyes on her and the fact that he thought she was reasonably attractive had sent entirely different sensations rocketing southwards, although she'd never, ever tell him that. 'So he's that bad then? Gould?'

Monroe sat back again, stretching his neck and shoulders as much as he could. 'How do you think he got to be the one running this place? We're in deep, deep shit, Charlie, and our only hope is to work together and get out of here.' He shrugged, the eyebrow twitching… 'Then you can try to kill me again if you want, that is why you're here, isn't it?'

She shrugged, feeling her lips tighten into a feral grin, 'I almost did it too, Monroe…'

'Almost doesn't pay, Charlie.' He straightened up, eyes flashing to the door then back to hers, the mixture of warning, challenge, resignation and scorching rage in them holding her tighter than the ropes for a long, long moment because she couldn't, wouldn't believe that he could feel anything that much, that deeply. Not him...

She turned…

'Hello, you two, I hope you had a good rest because you'll need your energy for the show tonight.' The guy from last night walked into the tent, followed by the one who'd hit her…

Monroe sat up a little straighter, 'Gould.'

….

AN: Thanks again, I'll have part two up very soon (it's almost done), cheers, Magpie


	2. Chapter 2

**Russian Roulette, part 2.**

A Revolution fic (Blackout AU): Sebastian (Bass) Monroe/Charlotte (Charlie) Matheson, Charloe. Rating M…

New Vegas. Gould was on his way to see Jimmy after the fight when he spotted the girl aiming a crossbow at his prize prizefighter. That really pissed him off. It was obvious that Jimmy and the crazy girl had some history because he went postal trying to stop Gould's guys nab her even after she'd tried to put a hole in him. Anyway, no one messed with Ely Gould, and now he had Jimmy and the hellion tied up and waiting to learn just who was in charge…

AN: Thanks so much for reading and for some lovely comments. I hope you enjoy :)

 **Russian Roulette. An activity that is potentially very dangerous...**

Gould's tent was buzzing, with more and more excited punters crowding in through the entry, some lining up at the bar for drinks while others got themselves a good spot at the front, near the action… Torches flared around the perimeter and the assorted aromas of sweat, unwashed bodies, alcohol, tobacco, weed and barbecued meat hung like a heavy, grey, greasy cloud under the peaked roof of the tent.

Charlie stared straight ahead, trying to ignore the stares and raking, avid looks of the men and women jostling for a place at the chain barrier and getting shoved back by the ring of armed guards stationed around the perimeter. The noise was incredible with bookmakers calling out odds, people yelling – and a band playing some rock and roll in the back corner…

Her hands were free but she was tied by a rope around her waist to a tent pole on the outside edge of the fight circle in the centre of the big tent, a wooden trestle table a few feet in front of her with a flat wooden box on top of that, just out of reach. She knew that because she'd tried to reach it. There was enough slack in the rope to let her just touch the edge of the table, but that was it, and the guard whose job it was to watch her, had shoved her back to her place…

Monroe had a table just like it, but a bit further away because of his longer reach. He was tied up the same way to another pole although he had three guards, all to himself.

She glanced over at him. He was leaning back against his pole, head bent, eyes closed. In fact he looked like he was asleep. She rolled her eyes, wishing she could do the same…

Earlier, back in the other tent, Monroe had watched, his face unreadable while she told Gould that Jimmy had betrayed her, turned her family into the Militia as rebels, was responsible for their deaths, that she'd followed him here to avenge them.

It was close enough to the truth that Gould seemed to believe her.

And it had been Monroe's suggestion that she looked badass enough as she was, that seeing her as a vengeful assassin, complete with (empty) gun, knife and sword belts would rev the crowd, make them take her more seriously, more likely to spend their diamonds placing bets...

That was after Gould said he wanted her stripped naked. Lucky for her Gould was greedy…

So she was still in her clothes, even her chain belt. They'd taken her knives of course, but left the knife, gun and sword belts. Gould had taken Monroe's suggestion seriously and wanted her to look as badass as possible.

She didn't really know why she hadn't told him who Monroe really was though, except that she'd spoken to Gould and looked in his eyes and knew then that Monroe was right. Gould was a snake. Besides, she didn't want Monroe in the hands of the patriots. She'd rather deal with him on her own terms and in her own way. Once they got out of this of course. She had the feeling that Gould just wanted to teach Monroe a lesson and she was expendable. So whatever game this was it was probably rigged, and not in her favour.

She stopped thinking about that, because it was confusing. Monroe kept doing things to help her, but why?

She looked around the tent instead. It was really full now, hot and steamy, a haze gathering at the high points of the tent. The already hot summer night made almost unbearable by the body heat of people inside the tent.

A couple of guys were going round with long poles, opening vents high up the sides of the tent, and there was a sudden rush of air as the heat rose up and out.

Charlie felt the breeze like a cool relief on her skin…

It seemed to wake Monroe up too. He opened his eyes, looking around like he was totally unconcerned, nodding to people who seemed to know him, smiling at others – especially the women.

Gould may have let her keep her clothes, but he was stripped to the waist like he was ready for a fight. The heavy coils of rope around his waist showing off sweat gleaming skin, a flat stomach, washboard abs, broad chest and heavily muscled arms.

Gould's main guy, the one called Buck, had said it would get the women in spending their money to look at him and she had to admit that even bruised and bloody Monroe looked powerful, dangerous, beautiful. His blue eyes gleaming out of the shadows and the sculpted planes of his face like an image on the old coins she used to find as a kid…

He stood out from the crowd like an athlete, tall, charismatic, demanding their attention just by being there. And judging by the number of women calling out to him and shoving their way to the front in the increasingly rowdy, rapidly growing audience, Buck was right.

She'd been too busy thinking of how and when she was going to kill him to really notice the first time she saw him, during that fight. But now, even with bruises and cuts spreading like ink spots and calligraphy across his tightly muscled chest and back, and with new blood on his face and arms from where they'd dragged him into the tent he was an amazing looking guy, although just two days ago she'd have crash tackled anyone who suggested she'd be thinking about him in that way…

Her body had a mind of its own though, it didn't care who he was.

She tightened her thighs, trying to ease the need between her legs, her mind wandering to thoughts of what his golden skin would feel like under her hands, wondering if it would be smooth, or rough with hair and scars, if his muscles were as hard as they looked, his arms as strong.

At least thinking about him was taking her mind off the increasing possibility that she was going to end up dead tonight. She took a deep breath and tested the ropes again. This was a very bad situation. Maybe she'd been wrong about him being able to escape from anything.

She knew one thing for sure though, if she got out of this, she'd find a way to kill Gould the snake, now or later. And Monroe? She was considering her options.

Maybe they were going to make them fight? What was in the boxes anyway?

There was a sudden burst of music from the band over in the corner, almost hidden by the crowd and a tall, thin, bearded man in a battered top hat, crimson harem pants and a black tux jacket framing a bare, heavily tattooed torso strutted into the centre of the tent, stopping halfway between Charlie and Monroe.

He took his hat off and bowed. 'Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, tonight we have a very special treat. On my left we have Charlie Masters who tracked our own Jimmy King,' he held a hand out towards Monroe, smiling as the crowd cheered, 'all the way from Texas across the great Plains Nation and who accuses him of betraying her family to the Monroe Militia.'

There were loud boos, yelled comments and catcalls then, all of them directed towards her, Monroe was obviously popular.

The man nodded, his face grave. 'She was seen and captured by Ely and Buck trying to shoot Jimmy by stealth, with no warning,' he paused, shaking his head, 'a cowards way, do you agree?'

Cheers, jeers and loud clapping erupted into a volcano of sound around the tent, ringing in Charlie's ears. She glanced over at Monroe. He was just standing there, somehow looking manly, tragic and innocent, all at once. She snorted, although this was a long way from being funny. She was almost starting to regret not turning him in.

The guy in the top hat made a dramatic gesture, his hands sweeping out towards the two of them. 'Now we can't just have people marching in and shooting our friends can we?'

There was a roar of agreement from the crowd and an apple core came flying from somewhere, hitting Charlie on the shoulder…

Top hat held up his hands for quiet and the crowd subsided, 'but we're going to give her a chance to prove herself.' He smiled, his head turning to sweep the crowd, his eyes full of mischief, cunning, insinuation. 'We're going to see if she's willing to put her money where her mouth is, if she's got enough guts that is'

Another apple core whizzed past her head and what looked like a piece off someone's boot heel bounced off Charlie's back. She ignored them.

He smirked, 'Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls… Tonight we are going to revive an old, old practice, one that people used to say reflected the will of the Gods.' He bowed, pointing at the two tables in a dramatic sweep, his voice getting louder. 'We'll let chance decide who is right and who has been wronged.' He opened the boxes with a flourish, pulling out a gun from each one and holding them up for everyone to see. 'They're gonna play Russian roulette.'

The roar from the seething, rocking and raucous crowd was deafening and prolonged and he had to hold up his hands several times for quiet. 'Ladies and gentlemen, please, these are the rules…'

There was a sudden, whispering quiet.

Charlie felt her blood run cold, because this was insane, did they expect her to shoot Monroe? Or herself?

Top hat stalked around the circle. 'They will each have one gun. A six shooter loaded with just one bullet and when I say 'go' they will fire at each other or themselves until they find that bullet…' He stopped, grinning, 'and to keep things honest, we've got guns on both of them to make sure they don't fire at anyone else.'

Some more of the armed guards stepped forward out of the crowd, half of them with rifles aimed at Charlie, the others at Monroe.

His voice hushed, 'Ladies and gentlemen, we already know that she wants to kill him, but will Jimmy King, a man who is known to love the ladies…'

There were catcalls and cheers from the audience and Monroe shrugged, his mouth twisted in a kind of grin, although his eyes were hard…

Top hat put a hand over his heart, 'so will he shoot her? Or himself?' he bowed and swept his hands out towards the two in chains, 'or will he be a perfect gentleman and let her kill him?'

There was a huge roar of approval, people cheered, clapped and the tiny flashes of diamonds and pieces of gold and silver changing hands were everywhere, the torches flickering and flaring on faces and bodies of all shapes and sizes around the tent.

Top hat tap danced his way between the tables and flicked open both boxes. Inside each box was a gun. He took the guns out of their boxes and laid them on the tables, just out of reach.

Charlie looked at the gun, then over at Monroe.

He was ignoring the gun, his eyes roving around the tent, and she saw calculation, anger and desperation flicker over his face before settling into a fierce determination.

She watched as something changed in his eyes, a kind of hope…After all he always escaped, always got away. That didn't mean she would though, she couldn't fight a whole tent full of people, and there was no reason for him to do anything else to help her. Shit…

Top hat raised his hands for quiet. 'Ladies and gentlemen, what will they do? Will Jimmy survive? Will he shoot first? Or will he be a victim of fate and this assassin from Texas?'

The tent erupted into cheers of support for Jimmy and shouted insults and abuse at Charlie.

A piece of jerky, at least she thought it was jerky, hurtled past, just missing her nose. She rolled her eyes. No one was throwing anything at Monroe, she was definitely not the popular choice...

There was a disturbance in the front row as someone pushed through, a tall, slim, beautiful blonde in a short, tight black dress, her hair shining, glossy and her breasts pushed up like pale cushions. It was the woman Charlie had seen with Monroe after the fight, hanging off him like she owned him.

Blondie walked into the centre, right up to Monroe, ignoring Charlie completely. She smiled up at him, then reached up and pressed her lips to his, kissing him hard and long, pressing herself up against him like she wanted to get absorbed, her arms twining around his neck, her hips against his crotch, grinding gently...

Monroe was kissing her back, the two of them glued together, putting on a show that was hot, sweaty and heavy and totally all sex...

The crowd exploded into a stamping, screaming mob, with wolf whistles and cheers making the walls shiver and shouts of encouragement for them to keep going.

The blonde disengaged, peeling herself away from Monroe's sweat streaked chest, running a hand down his shoulder, one finger tracing a path down to the button of his pants, sliding over the big bulge below it. Then she turned to Charlie, eyes hard and full of female triumph, lips red and swollen and her nipples budding through the thin fabric of her dress. She smiled, lifted a hand, the middle finger raised, and gave Charlie the bird. Then she waved at Monroe, turned and stalked back into the crowd.

Top hat applauded, his beard shaking and a noticeable tent at the crotch of his loose crimson pants. 'Now that's what I call a show, folks, and I don't know, but if that's the last kiss Jimmy will ever have, it was a fucking good one.' He had to raise his voice to get over the roaring noise, 'Hey you all… are you listening?

Things gradually got quieter...

He bowed, 'This is the last chance for you to place your bets before we start, so dig deep my friends because the game is fucking on...'

There was a sudden flurry of movement, of raised voices, the glint of diamonds poured into waiting hands, the heavy sheen of gold, the brightness of silver.

Then everything went quiet again, all eyes on the three figures in the centre of the tent.

Top hat smiled, his lips thin and cruel, his eyes skating over Charlie, almost as if she wasn't there.

She shivered. Nothing in those eyes had looked in any way sane or reasonable. He'd dismissed her like she was nothing, like she was already dead, like he wanted her dead. She felt anger, determination to prove him wrong boiling up from inside her belly, and she almost, almost yelled out who it was they were so in love with, who it was that she'd damn well tried to kill… Then she caught Monroe's eye.

He looked wary, like he knew what she was thinking...

She sucked in a breath, maybe they wouldn't believe her, and it would be an excuse to do something worse to her. Maybe Blondie was into knife throwing as well as public displays of … whatever that was.

Top hat stood between the tables, then, with a flourish, he pushed the guns towards Charlie and Monroe, where they could reach them and darted back out of the way.

The guards came a bit closer. Their guns steady on both of them, ready to shoot if things didn't go to plan.

The tent was silent now, except for the clink of glasses and someone coughing at the back.

Charlie was watching Monroe and he was watching her.

Neither of them moved…

Monroe lifted an eyebrow, a question.

She nodded, just a little. Then reached for her gun.

He got to his at the same time and took aim a tiny bit to the right of her head. It looked like he was pointing it right at her to everyone in the audience though, because there was a collective gasp of anticipation.

She lifted her own gun and aimed, a little to the left of his right temple, and there was a moment of strange clarity, a kind of fuck you acceptance of the possibility of death coming as she looked into the black barrel and in those brilliant blue eyes behind it she saw the same reckless acceptance, of death, and her...

They fired at the same time.

Two clicks…

Charlie closed her eyes for a moment, relief flooding through her like a warm wave. She'd been ready, prepared for the roar of a bullet, even though she was pretty sure it'd be flying past her. Which would be a useless gesture on Monroe's part because if he didn't shoot her the guards would. But it still meant something.

She was also sure that Monroe would be the only one with an actual bullet in his gun because Gould didn't want Jimmy to die. He was worth far too much alive. She took a deep breath, the acceptance of death flying out the window, because she wanted to live and this could really be it, really be the end for her, weeks away from the only family she had left. Instead she was here with Monroe, her enemy and the only one who seemed to want to help her. But even he couldn't save her this time, could he?

There was a rising murmur of impatience from their audience, and the guards came a bit closer…

Ok… She looked up again, aiming her gun almost, almost true, her finger tight on the trigger.

He was waiting for her, his gaze steady, calm, the gun aimed between her shoulder and the curve of her neck.

There was total silence around them, no coughing, no glasses clinking, nothing...

Then Monroe turned the gun on himself, pointing it up under his chin, his eyes on hers the whole time, a calm, limpid blue...

There was pandemonium around them, people shouting, yelling out denials, all of them calling for him to shoot Charlie. Gould's guards were frozen in place, not knowing what to do…

Charlie frowned, why would he do that?

His eyes changed, like a match lighting up, or a gun going off…

Then she was distracted by some kind of commotion at the door of the tent, people were milling around, a hubbub of voices rising.

A short, dark, stocky man shoved his way through to the middle of the tent, his eyes wide, his voice loud, harsh. 'Folks there are soldiers coming down the road, lot's of em. It's those patriot bastards and they've got horses and guns, wagons, everything.' He headed back out, 'we're leaving, grab what you can and go if you don't want to get fucking conscripted.'

There was panic, people started running everywhere, the tent bulging at the sides and rolling from side to side as bodies hit the walls trying to get through the door.

Charlie looked over at the other table, Monroe was gone, the rope a tangle on the floor. Then she felt a tug on her own rope as it gave way and then his hands at her waist on the bare strip of skin between her jeans and her tank. Awareness of his body against hers, his hands on her shot through her like lightening as she felt his lips soft on the rim of her right ear…

'Follow me if you want to live, Charlotte.'

She shivered, then nodded, her breath coming fast and hard with a kind of wild exhilaration, he could have just gone, but he'd come back for her, 'Ok.' Shit, her voice sounded like she'd been smoking, adrenalin making her see him through a fog of fight or flight.

He grinned, his eyes gleaming in the shadows. 'Guess we got lucky.' Then he turned and ran for the back of the tent.

She followed him out, no one trying to stop them. The guards had vanished along with the crowd, although she spotted Gould and Buck heading out a side flap with Buck leading the way, gun in hand, looking around outside to make sure things were clear before he let Gould out. Then they disappeared.

Outside there were people running everywhere, confused, scared, some with guns, some with bags of belongings, all running away. The moon was high, it's bright glow making the coloured lamps and torches seem garish, crude…

Monroe stopped, looming over her, his eyes a clear, luminous blue, the bare flesh of his torso like a marble statue in the moonlight. 'I need to go to my trailer, get some things.'

She stopped too, he was close enough to touch and he filled her eyes. Somehow Sebastian Monroe had escaped again, and so had she. And now her fingers itched to reach out and… She pulled back with an effort that shocked her. Shit. Part of her didn't want this to end. Didn't want to be alone again, wanted to go with him…

The sensible, Matheson part of her took charge again. No more itching, she'd have to settle for her bow, her knives, 'I need to get my pack,'

He didn't say anything for a moment, then he chuckled, an eyebrow lifting a little, 'I'll be heading towards Texas, Charlie, if you want to try shooting me again?'

She smirked, brushing a long strand of hair away from her eyes, 'just picture me behind every tree.'

He laughed out loud, although his eyes had that touch of sadness again. 'I'll definitely do that.' He turned to go then glanced back, 'It's been fun. Look after yourself Charlie.'

She blinked. This was surreal. She mentally kicked herself in the ass and turned to go, then paused, feeling like a fool but what the hell. 'You too, Monroe.' Then she was gone.

…

She found her pack back in the other tent, and her bow and knives under a table. She strapped everything on, feeling more alive than she had for quite a while. It was quiet around the tent, but off in the distance she could hear shouts and screams, gunshots…fighting.

She still had a job to do. Tracking Monroe was her job now. She'd found him once, and she'd find him again. She could decide what to do then.

…

Charlie kept to the shadows as she headed back to Monroe's trailer, lucky not to meet anyone. Just as she got close, she saw him coming out, buckling his sword belt as he went, a heavy duffel bag slung over his shoulder.

She lifted her bow, almost out of reflex then lowered it again. She figured that he deserved a head start this time.

Then a couple of guys came out from absolutely nowhere, one of them hitting Monroe on the head, both of them grabbing him as he fell, carrying him between them, slumped, feet dragging in the dust to a wagon, shoving him inside and locking the door.

Charlie watched, shocked into disbelief… then pulled herself together and ran after them as fast as she could. But no matter how fast she went she couldn't catch up with them and their horses and soon had to stop, panting and out of breath. Watching as the wagon disappeared into the night and down the road.

Shit.

She took a long deep breath. She'd track and find him, of course. Maybe even rescue him for a change? But what then?

She shrugged. One thing at a time.

She started running.

…

AN: thanks again, I hope you enjoyed it! I'm back working on updates of my WIP's, and really excited about the GSC Charloeween fic fest! hope to see you there, cheers, Magpie


End file.
